She met him at the restaurant, wearing a deep purple dress that dipped in front and hugged her waist. He'd expressed his appreciation and watched keenly as she'd tried not to blush. He wondered if she considered this a date, but was too scared to ask.

Dinner is filled with stories, about Noah or his kids, about his case work before he came back to New York, about her promotions. They're playing catch up and avoiding all the landmines, the places they're afraid to risk, the things they're afraid to reveal.

By the time they finish dessert, he's frustrated. He didn't want this chatter, even though he thinks it's important, knowing the things about her life that he missed. There are things that feel more urgent right now. Between what had transpired these past few weeks and the more intimate details of her life when he was away, he's cursing himself for shying away from the difficult conversations.

He thinks of Wheatley and the way he talked to Liv and he knows he owes her about a dozen explanations. There's a part of him that wants to bite the bullet. Admit something about his feelings for her. There's been so many words, so many things that have swirled through his brain over the years, that have emerged from his lips in these past weeks - some far more intentional than others. But he convinces himself he needs to own up to some of his sins first. Maybe some of that will allow him access to the parts of her life that he's missed. Some sort of penance.

He fiddles with his napkin. "I um….I did something stupid."

She cocks an eyebrow at him in a gesture of 'what's new?' and he laughs awkwardly. "Something...happened with Wheatley's ex-wife…"

Olivia saves him from finding the words, "You slept with her."

It's a statement, flippantly delivered and he rushes to correct her. "No! No...I kissed her. I...I thought there was something there."

Olivia looks at him for a long moment before her gaze shifts away. She half shrugs, like it's nothing. He can't decide if she's masking hurt, or if she really doesn't care.

He plows on anyways, desperate to explain. "It was so stupid. Especially when it seems like she was involved with Kathy's death. I think I was just...scared, lonely. I was grasping at something and she was there-"

Olivia's eyes come up sharply and this time he knows the hurt in them. It takes him a second to put it together. How she had told him he could hold on to her and how he'd run away instead. And now to be rubbing this in. He frowns, runs a hand over his face. "I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't do it to the kids. I needed to be strong. For all of you."

She finally speaks, "Why?"

"Because I-" He wants to say it. But it's not the same as it was that night when he was exhausted, all his defenses down. He's too in control now and he's scared what she'll do if she hears it a second time. If she'll reject him. He wonders if he had caught her so off guard, or if she had felt too badly for him at that moment to give him a true reaction. He's not even sure that she understood that confession as what it was, or if she had mistaken it for something less than.

"Because I care about all of you. And I couldn't drag you down with me."

She looks at him, sadness clouding her eyes. "You're allowed to be vulnerable, El. We were there to help you. It's ok to lean on people."

He allows a grimacing sort of smile and nods, unable to look at her. "You know that's not easy for me."

"You're not the only one," she admits quietly.

He glances back up at her, watches her battle her own demons, her eyes fixed away from him. By the time she turns back to him, she's fought off whatever bad memories have surfaced and he's alarmed to realize that he has no idea what they are anymore.

"I've missed a lot in your life." And he watches her eyebrows lift in surprise, before she settles, swallows back the emotion. "Tell me?" he asks.

She exhales a puff of breath, a silenced half laugh. "Ten years, El. I don't even know where to start."

But he won't let her go so easily, pinning her down with a question that's been nagging at him. "Fin said you got serious with someone." He watches as she nearly rolls her eyes, shifts uncomfortably in her seat, exhales again.

"I'm surprised Fin didn't just tell you everything." It's sarcastic and very frustrated and he sees it as another attempt at avoidance.

"He said I should talk to you. So?"

She looks at him, purses her lips, shakes her head again. When she eventually speaks her voice is almost resigned, "Ed Tucker."

For a few seconds Elliot's brain comes to a complete standstill. He has to remind himself to blink, to breathe. And once he does, the moment comes rushing in with vengeance.

"Tucker?!" Elliot furrows his brow, tries not to raise his voice. He looks at Olivia's serious expression, just to be sure she isn't fucking with him. But there's no indication that it's a joke. He laughs anyways, a harsh sound emanating from his lips. "Tucker….wow."

He wants to stop himself, he really does. Because he can see the anger brewing under her outwardly calm demeanor. He can see that he's hurting her. But while he may have learned over the years how to better curb his rage, he's very sure he can't manage it now. He feels betrayed and the fire wrapping around his ribcage will not be denied.

His hands curl into fists and he forces himself to sit back in his chair, take a breath. He manages two before he jerks forward again. "What the fuck, Olivia." a hard whisper directed at her and he watches her gaze turn steely.

He waits for her to respond, but he can see that she doesn't intend to. "What? Don't you have anything to say?"

"Are you asking me to explain myself to you?" The words bite out, sharp.

It stops him. The anger is still there, bubbling, but he knows he's walking into a trap. How can he demand an explanation when he wasn't around to begin with? Still, the thought of Tucker touching her makes him ill with rage. He chugs half his water, wills himself to calm. And then a question that's been turning over in his mind these past months reemerges.

"Is Tucker Noah's father?" He asks it quietly, as gently as he can manage. He can still hear the edge in his voice.

Olivia narrows her eyes at him. There's a long pause and he thinks that maybe she just won't respond at all. But when she finally says "No." clipped, terse, he feels like he can breathe. He wants to ask about Noah's father or whether Olivia had found a way to adopt or anything else about her love life or her family choices that he's missed these past ten years. But he can see he's shut that door between them. He's turned a wonderful evening into a jousting match. He curses himself for not being able to manage his jealousy better.

He clears his throat. "I'm sorry I got angry." He looks up at Olivia, expecting the apology to appease her. But he's met instead with a stony glare.

She throws her napkin on the table, picks up her purse and walks away.

Elliot yanks out his wallet, throwing money on the table and running out after her. He finds her at the curb, glancing up and down the street looking for a ride.

"I said I was sorry." She glances over to him, the anger still clearly etched in her face.

"You know what, it's on me." Her voice is harsh, the words sarcastic. "I don't know why I expected you to fucking grow up."

"Grow up?!" He's more surprised by her anger than anything else. "The man hounded us for ten years. You were the first one to complain about the rat squad! And then you what, go and fuck the guy that arrested you for a murder you didn't commit?! Forgive me for not blessing the unholy union!"

"Of all the things! Tucker?! This is what matters to you?! That's nothing!" Her voice cracks on the words. "You have no idea what I went through! You have no idea the-" He can see she's trembling, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye as she tries to calm herself, back away from him. Her voice drops, tiredness and resignation line her words, "I'm not even sure you deserve to know."

As suddenly as the rage had poured out of her, she has pulled it all back, zipped it up and sealed it away. She glances towards the street and lifts her hand to signal a taxi.

"Talk to me!" Elliot says urgently, frightened by what she's not saying.

She drops her hand and it's like the moment of anger has drained every reservoir of her energy. "Why?"

He frowns and then parrots her words back to her, "You're allowed to be vulnerable, Liv."

"After you left me?" She scoffs, "No thanks." He stares at her in a stunned silence, surprised by the iciness in her tone.

"Did you ever even care? You didn't say goodbye. You let me depend on you. You spent 13 years promising me I could trust you. And then you left, like I didn't matter at all. Like it was nothing to leave me behind. Never contacted me. Never checked to see if I was ok. Never bothered to explain or apologize. You were the only person I ever really trusted and when you left...I've never really trusted anyone since." Tears are flowing, though her words, her tone are cold, harsh.

It's the shame ultimately that he can't take. He frowns at her. He wants to push all the buttons between them. He'd rather she rages at him, because what she's doing right now is frightening. "As if you never left me. As if you didn't disappear and leave me wondering whether you were ok." His voice is raised, the sound echoing off of the pavement, the buildings.

She laughs derisively, "You're really going to compare that to what you did? You really wanna play that game?" Her voice drops into an unrecognizable register. "Because I was gone a few months. I was undercover. What's your excuse?"

"I had to save my marriage." It slips out, the last thing that he should be throwing at her feet, but the thing he's certain she should know by now. He'd very nearly spelled it out in the letter. Had all but admitted that he had to choose. Or rather, that he felt he didn't have any other choice.

She frowns at him, steps back. "What does that have to do with me?!"

And he's honestly not sure if she's so deeply in denial or if she's just trying to deflect. "It has everything to do with you."

He sees it, the same uncertainty that had crossed her face during the intervention, when he'd handed her the letter. The way she looks like she can't begin to comprehend what he means.

She turns away from him suddenly and he moves when she does, keeping pace with her. "Just tell me what you want, from me. From us," he begs, taking them back to the non-wedding conversation, her question of what she is to him. He had wanted to tell her she was everything. He wishes he had. "Let me fix this," his voice is hushed.

She stops short and he rounds her, coming to face her. "I don't know!" She presses a palm to her forehead, drops it before looking up at him, blinking. "And you don't know either."

"Yes, I do." He wraps his hands around her arms and half steps forward, half pulls her towards him. His lips crash down on hers, leaving no room to argue about what it is that he wants from her. He presses his lips firmly on hers, thinks about pulling her closer.

She pushes against him, breaks the kiss and his grasp on her. In the half dark street he can still see the tears rimming her eyes, the tracks on her cheeks. She swivels on her heel, throwing her arm up and this time there's a cab.

"Liv…" He says quietly as the cab pulls to a stop.

"I can't." She doesn't turn back to him, just steps forward, opens the door, disappears inside. He watches the cab leave, pulls out his phone. He rings her and she sends it to voicemail, once, twice, three times. He stops calling and wonders how the night went so wrong.